


Whispers From Yharnam

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Short Story, Writer's Block, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: A series of Bloodborne-related short stories from prompts in an attempt to break my writer's block.





	1. A Calm Night

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ve gone mad, then,” Father Gascoigne hissed. He bared his teeth at the younger hunter standing before him. The stubborn glint in his eye brought more tension, a low growl crawling from his throat. “I’m a beast, Damien! You’re supposed to keep me from going out there and eating innocent people!”

“The chains seem to be doing a good enough job at that.” Damien remarked. He glanced at the shackles that hung from the priest’s wrists and ankles, knowing that they would soon fit him tightly. Claws were already sprouting from Gascoigne’s fingers, and his snarls did not go unheard. “And you don’t need to growl at me.” He said.

“I AIN’T GROWLING!” Gascoigne shouted, letting out another snarl. His frown deepened when Damien took a step back. He sighed and sat down in the basement corner, refusing to look the hunter in the eye. “I’m sorry. You’ve seen those beasts out there, and what I have become. To think a hunter would refuse to slay one of those monsters…” he said.

Damien took a deep breath and sat next to the priest. “I’ve been around you this long, and already been soaked in your blood. I’m not sure I could stand to loose you now,” He said. “And you remember what Eileen said. If the worst happens…we’ll make sure your end is swift.” He lowered his gaze to the floor, only to perk up when a hand reached under his hat to ruffle his hair.

“You’re too kind, Damien. I fear that it may become your undoing.” Gascoigne murmured. He grabbed the young hunter, taking care not to slice him with his claws, and held him against his chest. Damien tensed up for a moment, but snuggled up against him only a second later. The two hunters remained locked in a comfortable embrace as the darkness of night settled in outside.

As much as Gascoigne hated to break the hug, he could feel the blood burning in his veins. He was panting now, the sweet scent of the moon and blood that clung to Damien’s garb causing him to drool. “Please, lad, step away. I can feel it taking me.” He whispered. Damien shifted in his grasp before reluctantly wriggling away. Gascoigne managed a gentle smile before a burning pain wracked his body.

Damien turned away and closed his eyes. If there was one thing he hadn’t become accustomed to, it was the screams. Not that flesh tearing or bones cracking and reforming were any more pleasant. It wasn’t long before the agonized cries evolved into feral roars. Finally, silence.

The hunter wasn’t given much time to enjoy the peace. Chains rattled alongside heavy footsteps, heavy breathing and growling sounding behind him. He took a deep breath and turned, opening his eyes to glimpse the beast that had been Father Gascoigne only moments ago.

Streams of saliva dripped from his teeth, and Damien couldn’t tell if it was from the transformation or the beast seeing him as a delicious treat. Gascoigne pulled against his binds, head held high and nostrils flaring. In spite of the danger, Damien couldn’t help but feel…oddly curious. He took a few steps towards the beast, ignoring his instincts telling him to stay away.

Father Gascoigne gave a low growl at the approaching hunter. He could smell his blood, and beastly desires urged him to break free and bite into his tender flesh. Yet there was a fraction of his mind that fought against those instincts, one that wanted to scream at Damien to run away. These thoughts fought against each other, only for the beast to snap back to reality when a hand pressed against his torn cheek.

Damien gingerly rubbed his hand against Gascoigne’s cheek, then ran his fingers through his beard. Deep purrs began to replace the growls as Gascoigne tilted his head and nuzzled the hunter’s palm. Damien let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but nearly shrunk back when the beast pressed his nose to his mask.

The hunter held still as stone as Father Gascoigne sniffed his face, nearly shuddering at the unkempt beard scratching against his mask. After what felt like hours, the beast let out a loud purr and gave Damien a slimy lick against the cheek. He stumbled back from the shock, tripping over his feet and falling on his back. Gascoigne barked and bit down on Damien’s boot, dragging him closer.

When the hunter regained his bearings, he found the beastly priest lying on top him like a domestic cat. He lied still and whimpered, not wishing to awaken Gascoigne. There wasn’t much he could do in his position besides wait until morning. Or wake up in the Hunter’s Dream after being eaten alive. He shivered and swiftly tossed the thought away.

It wasn’t long before the vibrations of the beast’s purrs combined with his body heat lulled Damien to sleep. As he drifted off, he could feel Gascoigne shift and lick him again, almost as if giving a goodnight kiss. The hunter smiled and drowsily patted his head. “Pleasant dreams, Father.” He whispered.


	2. Crow's Embrace

“He’s so adorable when he’s asleep.”

Damien regained consciousness the moment those words were uttered. He immediately fell still. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was drowsily stumbling through the Cathedral Ward, kicking himself for neglecting to rest in the Dream. As he collapsed against a wall to shut his eyes for a spell, the click of boots on the street hit his ears. The hunter had fallen asleep as the stranger lifted him up.

“Oh, you’re awake? Didn’t think you’d hear me,” The voice said. Now more alert, Damien recognized the voice and looked up. Indeed, there was a beak mask staring him down. Eileen tilted her head and chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout carrying you away without a word, dear. Couldn’t leave you to snooze where something could eat ya.”

Damien shrunk back and grunted indignantly. Now that he was awake, he found himself lying on a cot in some sort of basement. Were they in a chapel? The room almost looked like the one right above the Tomb of Oedon. Eileen sat down next to him, ignoring the hunter’s attempt to squirm away.

“I was merely resting, Eileen. If any beasts came for me, I would have been up in an instant.” He muttered. The Crow hissed and pushed his hat down over his eyes.

“Don’t try to act tough, boy. I might have told you to get out there and hunt, but I never mentioned overworking yourself,” she scolded. “You need to take care of yourself, Damien! You won’t always have that Dream to protect you!” Eileen took a deep breath and glowered at the hunter.

Damien had yanked his hat down to cover his face, and she could see him faintly shivering. Eileen bit her lip and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look. I don’t want to shout at you, but that was one of the worst things a hunter could do. I’ve lost too many allies in this damned city, and all dreams end. Yours will too, and I can’t bear the thought of watching you die.” She said.

As Damien’s trembling subsided, Eileen pulled him up and eased his hands away from his face. She tipped up his hat to look into his tear-ridden green eyes. “Look at you, so full of life. Don’t think I could stand to see that glimmer die.” She crooned. Damien was frozen, staring into the eyes of her beak mask.

Before she could react, the hunter leaned in and nestled against the Crow’s bosom. Eileen couldn’t help but smile as she tightly wrapped her arms around him. Damien gave a content hum and nuzzled against her chest. Yet there was still something prodding at his mind.

“Uh, Eileen? Do you really think I’m adorable when I’m sleeping?” he asked. Eileen chuckled and laid her beak on top of his hat.

“Oh yes! Just the way you curl up and start grabbing at the air, occasionally mumblin’ to yourself. Had to resist the urge to cradle you like a babe while you were out.” She said. Damien buried his face in deeper, thankful that his mask hid most of his face. Eileen laughed again and lightly scratched the back of his head.

“Never change, Damien. Fear the blood.” She whispered.


End file.
